Warmth, Heat
by Genevievey
Summary: Two brief oneshots describing moments at Ferndean when Jane decides to deny her passion no more. Inspired by Polly Teale's brilliant stage adaption.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note__: Dear reader, this oneshot was inspired by a brilliant stage production of Polly Teale's "Jane Eyre" adaption. Every JE fan ought to see it, because it gives a whole deeper view of Jane's struggle to repress her fiery passions. Although I admire Jane, I sometimes feel she is a little too disciplined, so I felt compelled to write this piece about Jane finally letting herself go. This occurs directly after the final scene of play; Jane has just accepted Rochester, and they stand in the garden at Ferndean.  
_

_Of course, I own nothing. And I love to receive reviews!_

**Warmth, Heat**

A tender, teary-eyed passion lead Rochester's hand blindly to cup Jane's cheek, and her own tears threatened to fall as he leaned in—so slowly it was painful—to kiss her._  
Now,_ thought Jane, at last releasing passion from rational restraint, _now I may love you as I have longed, now I may be yours, without a blot on your soul and mine._  
His lips found hers rather clumsily, but the kiss they shared was one of tender longing that filled Jane's heart so that she felt it might burst. This feeling did not dissipate when the kiss was broken; Jane felt a surge within her, a warm hurricane that could not be stopped, and ought to be stopped no longer. Emitting a small gasp, she threw herself into the embrace of her beloved and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest. Edward was slightly off-balanced by the sudden movement, but affection soon replaced surprise, and he wrapped his one good arm around Jane's slight frame, letting his cane fall. He did not need it now.

The young woman covered his neck and shoulders—whatever she could reach—with hasty, fervent kisses, as tears filled her tired eyes. "Oh, my Edward."  
Stroking her back (both for the purpose of calming the girl who sounded overwhelmed, and because it was such a joy to touch her again) Rochester smiled, for the first time since her departure. "My Jane, I remember you cool and sly, always dancing out of my grasp; time has changed you."  
She nodded, hastily brushing away tears with one hand, before returning it to his shoulder. His strong, warm shoulder. "Yes, and for the better."  
They stood together in the twilight, Jane feasting her eyes on each feature of the man who had haunted her dreams from a distance. Rochester was denied this pleasure, instead conjuring up images from memory to visualize how her face might shine now.

After a long moment in which joy, regret, relief and promise mixed indistinguishably, a shiver reminded Jane that evening was fast approaching.  
"Come, Mr. Rochester," she reluctantly quitted his embrace, taking his arm instead and bending for the abandoned cane, "let us return inside before you catch a chill."  
The gentleman's eyes could not fix on her, but Jane thought she saw their old sparkle as he replied, "I have never felt warmer, Janet." But he followed her willingly, led by one small, warm hand. Even when the warmth of Ferndean's hall enveloped them, Jane's hand was still the most comfortable thing Edward knew.

These days Mrs. Fairfax's eyes were constantly bleary, but they filled with fresh tears as the old lady watched her master ascend the stairs after dinner, led by the young woman soon to be Ferndean's mistress. Mr. Rochester had dined that evening with renewed appetite, and a spark of his old impetuousness returned in his exchanges with the staff, and Jane herself. Mrs. Fairfax suspected that this season would be most temperate.

Leading her master into his bedchamber, Jane made to release his hand. "I shall summon your manservant." But Rochester grasped her little hand.  
"Wait, Jane. Please, do not leave me yet. Let me hold you some minutes longer; you have appeared from the gloom so suddenly that if you should leave me I would doubt that you had ever come at all. It would not be the first time I dreamed your appearance." She knew his torture; her nights at Moor House had been filled with dreams of him. Conceding, and finding herself pleased to stay with him, Jane led him to sit down in an armchair.

She could not help comparing this to the first time she had entered his bedchamber at Thornfield; dousing the fire and saving his life. It was as though he had heard her thinking that those past passions were irretrievable, for when she stepped away to pull up an accompanying chair, Edward tightened his grip on her hand, and gestured for her to be seated on his lap. Jane hesitated for a moment; an imprudent suggestion, perhaps, but had she not suffered long enough to put distance between them? Was it truly righteous or healthy to deny any sway to passion and longing? After all, there was no longer any impediment to their union.

So Jane ensconced herself on Edward's knee, provoking on his lips a smile that hinted at triumph. She found herself perfectly willing to make this small 'sacrifice' of pride, in exchange for the pleasure of his embrace. He wrapped his good arm around her shoulders, and they sat in companionable silence.

At length, Rochester began to speak. "When you left me, I could not fathom it. You claimed to love me, yet you would not stay. Since then, time and solitude have been conducive to thought, and now I see why you could not accept me; I was asking you to give too much of yourself. You would have become my mistress—though I did not see it in that light at the time, I thought only of keeping you near me—and, shunned by society, you would have given yourself entirely to me, with nothing else in the world. I see now that you were wise to avoid such a situation; now you are a woman of independent means, with cousins to whom you may escape when I am too trying. But I want to ask you, Jane, did you expect that you would give your entire self to me without receiving my entire self in return? Would that bargain have been so repulsive?"

Although his blindness made it unnecessary, Jane's eyes remained lowered.  
"I do not in honesty know what I thought, sir, what I expected. I was torn every which way, between sensibility and sense, desire and disappointment. I consider it a miracle that events unfolded as they have."  
A moment after speaking, Jane gasped, realising that he could misinterpret that comment to mean that she considered the Thornfield fire miraculous. But Rochester was not offended. "I am glad too. And why look back, when we can now look forward."  
Jane smiled at this optimism, but replied, "We shall never escape the past; for without it we could not have reached the moment present."  
"You were ever too wise, little imp," Edward rebuked her warmly, sliding his good hand clumsily up her neck to pull her closer for a kiss. She did not resist, as she had in earlier days, instead leaning in to meet him.

Jane had fought to quell the imprudent fear that the fire might have robbed her of the passionate man she had known. She had thought it ironic that she now feared the absence of passion, when in previous days the intensity of its presence had been her curse. But as they shared a tender, slow, tentative kiss, she felt something within her ignite; and she no longer had reason to quell this fire. Aware as she was that she could now succumb to her longings, Jane wondered momentarily if she knew how to anymore, having restrained herself for so long.  
It was with mild surprise that Edward found her to be soft and yielding under his hand. Gone was his 'Quaker-ish governess'; here was a woman with fire in her heart and soul. The fire that had warmed him this afternoon, and—as she kissed him deeper—threatened to scorch him now.  
Edward ran his fingers through her hair, sending shivers down her neck, and Jane no longer feared that she would be unable to act without restraint. She had never felt so unrestrained in her life; so free, so warm, so loved.

When the kiss broke, both were flushed and breathless.  
"I should like to see your face at this moment."  
"Why so?"  
"I imagine that you are blushing, and wearing an expression of surprise."  
"And what makes you think that?" Jane replied, rather indignantly, and blushed deeper.  
"Well, you certainly surprised me, so perhaps you surprised yourself also."  
Jane rolled her eyes and swatted playfully at his shoulder. "Wicked man. I shall have to keep both eyes on you."  
"And I shall keep you always within arm's reach," Rochester replied, toying with a strand of her hair that had fallen in disarray. Jane beamed, and rested her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. It truly was miraculous that, after so many months of misery, she was there in the arms of he she loved best.

"Shall I call for your manservant yet?" Jane yawned, expressing no inclination to move at all.  
"Not yet, my dear. Stay with me a little longer."  
And she did.


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Well dear reader, I have been persuaded (between the Muses and reviewers) to add another little chapter to my original oneshot. I hope this meets any expectations.  
__Thank you for your interest, and your reviews!_

The master bedroom at Ferndean was bestowed with the luxuries befitting a gentleman of taste and means. At the present moment, moonlight spilled onto the floor, illuminating half of a rug and a pair of ladies' slippers. The great four-poster bed was situated far enough away from the window that the moonlight did not disturb its occupants, and close enough that, had they wished, one of them could have gazed out on the splendid view.

However, Mr. Rochester's eyes were closed, and the eyes of his wife were otherwise occupied. Jane lay enfolded in her master's arms, admiring the chest on which she was propped through half-open eyes. She could not say what kept her from slumber; perhaps it was the need for a time to ponder alone. Her childhood at Gateshead and Lowood had made solitude a necessity, and as such she had developed a tendency to use this time in meditation. Now that her husband and her household kept her constantly occupied, the only such time left to her was after all were asleep. Of course, this was hardly something to complain about; Jane never could stand to be idle.

As she listened to her husband's endearing half-snores, the topics Jane pondered were not troublesome. Snuggling a little closer to Edward's warmth, she marveled that she could feel so completely safe, warm and protected in the arms of a man both blind and crippled. More marvelous still was her certainty that no other woman could feel more secure, even in the arms of a man undamaged.

This train of thought brought a tender and sheepish smile to Jane's face, mock-scolding herself for the impropriety of the memory which had sprung to mind. The Rochesters had now been married for a week, although it seemed little more than a day, and at this hour last week, Jane had been helping her Edward into his nightshirt, as they retired to sleep at one o'clock in the morning.

The man older than she was flushed with the bliss familiar to newlyweds, but as she had buttoned his nightshirt, Edward's face had darkened somewhat.  
"I…I wish that I was not crippled so, that for your sake I could be a complete man."  
Jane, ever frank, had replied, "Sir, if you were any more of a man I should be in grave danger of swooning."

Now, Jane blushed a little in remembering her candid reply, but a smile curved her mouth as she remembered how Edward had responded; laughing suddenly, his assurance bolstered and any tension gone.

Jane tilted her head a little, in order to press a light kiss to her husband's chest, then settled against him and closed her eyes. Her marriage would lack nothing, of that she was certain. Oh, it would have its moments of trial, to be sure—their pairing was not one built for smooth-sailing—but Jane was content.  
She would never say again, as she had once told Helen Burns, "To gain some real affection from whom I truly love, I would willingly submit to have the bone of my arm broken, or to let a bull toss me, or to stand behind a kicking horse, and let it dash its hoof at my chest!"  
Never again would she speak such words. There was no longer any need.


End file.
